


Don’t want to die alone without you here

by SketchLockwood



Category: 15th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:29:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23477764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SketchLockwood/pseuds/SketchLockwood
Kudos: 3





	Don’t want to die alone without you here

**_The chapel of St Laurence_ **

**_Ludlow Shropshire._ **

**_November 1459._ **

The Castle was in anarchy. Men hurried in all directions. Edward was panicked. Edmund had truly never seen his older brother and closest companion so distressed. Yet, he had more important things to do. 

Edmund heard his cousin Warwick barking orders, even as he had managed to slip the castle’s defences through the crowds. He took his life into his own hands, but did he have choice?

Jane would be there now, kneeling before that window as dutiful to God as ever she had be. 

They had been more than just friends, she had always stated that to be friends with a man was unseemly. They had indeed been more than casual lovers. Unlike his brother, Edward would have deflowered and dismissed her. Edmund had no such brutish approach his love had been gentle. 

He hurried through the doors, they slammed behind him. 

> She turned her head, standing. “Edmund?” She whispered. “You shouldn’t. You should be with them. What are you doing?”
> 
> “I had to see you.” 
> 
> “But you could die.”
> 
> He frowned. “Yes, that’s true. But if I die with you beside me? Christ preserve me, but is it not worth it?” 
> 
> “I don’t understand.”
> 
> “You don’t? Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll leave. I’ll leave and it will break me more than any Lancastrian sword could.”
> 
> “I love you, and that itself is why you have to leave. We couldn’t-“ her words were stopped as his lips connected with hers. She smiled as they broke apart, her hand on his chest he knew she felt his heart beat. “Edmund.” 
> 
> “Jane, you are all I needed, you gave me strength and now I know
> 
> God will preserve me long enough to come back to you.”

***

**_Chantry Chapel of St Mary._ **

**_Wakefield, Yorkshire_ **

**_30th December 1460_ **

Tears streamed as he drew the cross over himself. The pain he knew he should feel absent. Although his vision faded, although blood flowed freely from a bound leg. However, the only pain was in his heart. It no longer thundered through his ears. 

Loss was always hard, and he could not be sure all was lost. 

No, he could not. He had fled the field before he had seen much more than a handful of deaths.

His father would be ashamed. He’d curse him. When, if he was to see the man again? He’d have his blood. He’d shamed the family and now?

Now she wouldn’t see him the same way. She’d reject him with right. 

Edmund frowned as he looked toward the alter. They’d be here soon. 

She’d sworn to him once in a letter, a letter he kept with him even now, that so long as she loved him he was safe. 

Had she lost her love for him?

“Edmund!” The voice was of a man he recognised, a man who had taught him much. Robert Aspell had demanded he leave, and had accompanied him. “Edmund we must move now all is lost and they are coming.” Edmund did not move, his mind fixed only on Jane, the words taking moments to leave his mind. He had known in his heart all was lost. “Christ but what is wrong with you boy? Your father is slain and they would do the same to you if they catch you.”

And fleeing was futile. 

How could Robert not see that? 

Jane, sweet Jane. How could he die without her? Had they now sworn love was forever? That they would not abandon one another in those letters his father had scolded him for? 

The doors opened, Robert blocked the aisle. “You will not pass me to lay a hand on that boy.” Edmund flinched as Aspell was thrown aside, like he was no more than a child. 

“I’ll come quietly.” He whispered, standing. They waited, it was only as he turned he saw Lord Clifford stood there. 

“Now.” Clifford growled, pointing toward the door. Rutland only nodded, limping heavily as he dragged his leg. 

“Edmund!” Aspell shouted. “Draw a sword!” 

He would not. He’d do one thing with more appearance of courage than Edward would, for once. 

Did Edward not think them too young to die still, as he had when they were eight?

Though his heart now pounded with a fear there was only one regret he could feel now. That first kiss with Jane, how that would never be replicated. 

How he could only hope she remembered him, how only he could hope their love had been true. 


End file.
